"37 years ago today, the Kingdome opened for business. 13 years ago yesterday, it was destroyed. Seattle finishes paying it off in 2016."

What a sad and strange epitaph for what was once the crown jewel of downtown Seattle.

The King County Multipurpose Domed Stadium was originally conceived in the 1950s, but public funding for the massive building was voted down several times (sound familiar?). In 1968, however, King County voters finally approved $40 million dollars in municipal bonds to pay for the dome, which began construction in 1972 and would be finished four years later.

Every major Seattle sports team called the Kingdome home at some point. The Supersonics moved in at the start of their 1978-79 championship season and led the league in attendance for two years in a row. On April 15th, 1980, in a home playoff game against the Bucks, the Sonics set an NBA single-game attendance record with 40,172, the most ever to watch a pro basketball game at the time.

The Kingdome also brought the NFL Pro Bowl and the NBA and MLB All-star games to town, along with the Final Four in 1984, 1989, and 1995. This was a very big deal back in the dark ages of Seattle, when we were only known for Bigfoot and Ted Bundy.

Over time, however, the novelty of watching sports inside a giant cement tomb wore off. As most Seattle teams declined in the late 80s, so did attendance. The Dome, run by King County, was not maintained very well, as anyone who ever had to use the bathrooms there can attest.

The Kingdome wasn't all urinal troughs and sticky floors, of course. The Seahawks had some great moments there (though they were mostly great for the other teams). Edgar Martinez had the most important hit in Mariners history in the dome. Pete and I even played in marching band during the halftime show on Monday Night Football there (Sorry ladies, we're already taken). And of course there was the annual paper airplane contest and the time that crazy guy flew a plane inside the dome.

In the mid-90s, though, the roof started to fall appart, giving the Seahawks and Mariners owners a perfect excuse to extort the city for new, single-use stadiums for their teams. Maybe if the Sonics hadn't moved out in 1985, they could have gotten a new stadium too.

It was too late now, though. The Kingdome was now the city's largest abandoned building. Its empty grey shell looked like the stripped-down ruins of an ancient civilization.

And on March 26, 2000, a day before the 24th anniversary of the Kingdome's grand opening, they blew it up.

So happy birth/death day to the Kingdome, the best and worst Multipurpose Domed Stadium we ever had.

If you're looking for a way to calm the turbulent waters currently flowing between Sacramento and Seattle, might I suggest this?

Yes, it's a Gary Payton "The Glove" hat, and yes, it lights up. Since no one could ever be angry wearing a "The Glove" hat that lights up, I think it might behoove both sides to don one of these suckers and just walk around for a little while. Give David Stern one for the afternoon. Drop one on Kevin Johnson's desk before he heads home from work.

In fact, I think quite a few of the world's problems might be solved if more people started wearing illuminated "The Glove" hats. The situation in the Middle East, for one. The charging/blocking situation in college basketball for another. The possibilities are endless, really.

Wednesday, March 27

Former Seattle Supersonic Olden Polynice was once a fan favorite in this town. Today? Not so much.

The retired center, who played for the Sonics from 1987-1991 and again for a brief stop in the disastrous lockout season of 1998-99, made a few comments on Twitter about supporting the Kings (another former team of his) staying in Sacramento. Then some over-zealous Sonics fans went ballistic. And then this happened:

Polynice and Hawes both played for NBA teams. They weren't community ambassadors. They weren't public servants. They were employees. Hawes did not choose to work in Sacramento, just like Polynice didn't choose Seattle. They went there because their jobs forced them to. Olden doesn't like Seattle? So what? Sometimes I don't like Seattle, and I've lived here all my life!

One of the most interesting parts is how the overhang allows fans to be right on top of the court, reminding me a bit of the old McArthur Court at University of Oregon, where the vertigo inducing upper deck made you feel like you were going to fall onto the court if you hiccuped.

Oooooookay? I know this sort of situation brings out the worst in sports fans, but the Über trolls on both sides have smelled blood and are engaged in a battle to the virtual death, bringing back painful memories of 2008 and the horde of OKC enthusiasts who came out in droves to piss on Seattle's basketball grave.

The irony, of course, is that fans have zero influence on the outcome of these sorts of dilemas, so while we bludgeon each other with zingers and hashtags, the NBA fatcats count their money and enjoy the show.

Instead of fighting each other, we should acknowledge that both cities have incredibly enthusiastic fans and, more importantly, incredibly rich investors begging to give the NBA boatloads of money. So why should either city be left out in the cold? Why not keep the Kings in Sacramento and award an expansion team to Seattle?

People will argue that expansion will dilute the league, but with the explosion of international basketball over the past two decades, there has never been a bigger pool for talent. Naysayers also protest the idea of the NBA having an uneven amount of teams, but as Tom Ziller brilliantly pointed out in detail back in January, the league has often operated that way and somehow survived.

The only reason the NBA hasn't fixed this mess is they love drama. It drives ratings, ticket sales and fan interest. And as we fight online crusades against imaginary foes from other cities, it's clear this whole kerfuffle is as authentic as the WWE, with the Board of Governors Meeting on April 18th being our Wrestlemania.

Basketball fans on both sides need to stop fighting each other and acknowledge we are all being exploited. The NBA could end this right now by awarding Seattle an expansion team. The only question is whether David Stern wants to play the hero or the heel.

In addition to helping us understand and prioritize the demand for tickets, registering your interest will be a critical step in demonstrating to the NBA and basketball fans around the country the unbelievable passion that exists in the Emerald City to BRING BACK OUR SONICS!

The Priority Ticket Waitlist will go live here at SonicsArena.com on March 14 at 10 am SST (Sonics-Saving Time!). You will also be able to go to the list directly here. Requests will be taken in sequential order for each ticket type.

Wednesday, March 6

We’re all familiar with the famous Seinfeld episode wherein
Elaine Benes is kicked out of Yankee Stadium for wearing a Baltimore Orioles
cap (she was in the owner’s box at the time), but did you know a very similar
event happened at a Sonics’ game, and that it involved the brother of perhaps
the most important figure in Seattle Sonic history?

It was March 2, 1987, and the Sonics were taking on the
Cleveland Cavaliers in a battle of not-exactly-titans. However, it was a big
game in that Lenny Wilkens was back in town, this time as the coach of the Cavs,
and the Sonics were honoring their former coach and player by putting his
number in the rafters, a classy move by the organization, to be sure.

(It should be noted that numerous newspaper reports
indicated that the Sonics retired Wilkens’ jersey; however, considering that
even more reports indicate that the jersey was retired in 1979, I’m not sure
exactly what was put into the rafters that night).

One person in particular was thrilled by the night’s events
– Lenny’s brother, Michael. Michael had been a statistician for the team for
more than seven years, and remained in the employ of the team even after his
brother left for Cleveland.

To honor Lenny, Michael thought it might be a good idea to
wear a Cleveland cap during the game. Just a heartfelt tip of the, well, cap to
his famous brother. No harm, right?

Michael obviously forgot who was running the Sonics. You
see, Barry Ackerley had bought the club, and while former owner Sam Schulman
would have just chuckled at seeing one of his employees wearing a cap of an
opposing team (heck, Schulman probably would have tried to sell Cavs’ hats in
the arena if he could make a buck off it), Barry Ackerley was most definitely not Sam Schulman.

Which is why, after halftime, Bill Ackerley, Barry’s son and
the team’s Vice President, approached Michael and asked him to remove the cap.

Michael, thinking that the Wilkens family had done enough
for the team to allow him a smidge of leeway, told Bill, thanks, but I think
I’ll keep my hat on.

Bill, realizing that it wasn’t in his best interests to
create a scene, retreated after a bit of debate.

And then fired Michael the next day.

Better yet, Ackerley claimed that he didn’t know that
Michael was Lenny’s brother. I’m not sure what’s worse, that the team’s Vice
President didn’t know that a seven-year employee was the brother of the most
famous person to ever don a Sonic jersey (to that point, anyway), or that Ackerley
was taking the exact opposite tack of
every white person in history in not thinking that two black men didn’t look
similar to one another.

Whatever the case may be, on March 6, 1987, newspapers across
the country ran stories about how the Sonics had fired Lenny Wilkens’ brother
for wearing a Cleveland Cavaliers cap.

Tuesday, March 5

41 years ago today, Spencer Haywood was probably thinking
about how he would celebrate the upcoming anniversary of his successful lawsuit
against the NBA. Maybe he was thinking about some jazz music in his beautiful
apartment overlooking Downtown Seattle, or having a few friends over, some good
food, or perhaps just a toast to the fact that a young black man from the rural
South had knocked off those high-priced NBA lawyers.

What he surely wasn’t thinking was how the unending Seattle
rains were going to seriously screw up all that he had won in that contentious
lawsuit.

It was Sunday, March 5, 1972. President Richard Nixon had
just completed his historic trip to China and the Sonics were gearing up to
cruise into the NBA Playoffs for the first time in the team’s history.Entering play that Sunday the Sonics had won
12 of their last 14 games. They hadn’t lost at home in more than a month; their
quest with Golden State for second spot in the Pacific Division was a tough
one, but certainly attainable. With the dismal Atlanta Hawks in town the only
question was whether the Sonics would use the opportunity to nudge Golden State
aside.

As always, it was raining like crazy in Seattle (more than
20 inches of rain had fallen since the beginning of the year, and a torrential
rain storm on Sunday didn’t help matters), and it was dripping again inside the
Seattle Center Coliseum, but that’s just how it was in Seattle, right? Okay,
they were starting to call the place “The Leaky Tepee” and “The World’s Largest
Shower Bath,” but, after all, the city had spent north of $100,000 to caulk the
6,000 aluminum panels that made up the roof of the building, so it wasn’t that
big of a deal, really.

Well, it became a big deal. A very big deal.

That Sunday was an especially leaky day at the tepee (so
much so that no fewer than five ball boys were on hand to mop up the puddles), but
as any Seattleite with a basement will tell you, there’s only so much you can
do when you’re fighting water.

A mere six minutes into the first period Haywood was headed
down the court on a fast break when his left foot and a massive puddle at
half-court greeted one another. The result?

A stretched right medial collateral ligation in Haywood’s
leg.

Amazingly, game reports glossed over Haywood’s injury. “Not
expected to be serious,” the AP said, focusing more of its efforts on the
broken ring finger of Sonic Captain Dick Snyder – suffered in a fall during the
same game. More amazingly, the Sonics had beaten the Hawks, putting them into a
tie with the Warriors for second place. Playoffs, here we come!

Two days later, though, the news was grim: Haywood was out
for the season. Playoffs, there we go.

Suffice it to say the Sonics did not rebound well from
seeing Haywood (26 ppg) and Snyder (16 ppg) sidelined. The Seattle dropped
eight of their final nine games, putting them a full four games behind Golden
State in the road to the playoffs.

Worse, the leak further poisoned the relationship between
the city and the team. A week after the incident, the Sonics had filed a claim against
Seattle for “gross negligence” in not repairing the leaky roof. Eventually, the
Sonics and Haywood would enjoin to ask the city for more than $400,000 for the
injury (roughly $280,000 for Spencer, $162,000 for the Supes), although the
parties would settle for a lesser amount (according to one account, Haywood got
about $50,000).

“After many requests and complaints about the leaks in the
roof, which not only make the playing surface of the basketball floor unsafe but
also brings great discomfort for our fans,” team owner Sam Schulman said in a
statement. “I am very bitter that I find it is necessary to make an issue every
time I need assistance from officials.”

A spokesman for the team even implied that the fiasco was
causing the Sonics to think seriously about leaving the Coliseum, perhaps to
that nifty domed facility the county was working on (something the team wound
up doing just a few years later, before returning to the Coliseum in the 1980s,
then onto KeyArena, then onto … I’ll just stop now).

Luckily for Spencer Haywood, the injury did not turn out to
be career-ending. After finishing in the top five in scoring in 1971-72, Haywood
returned the next year and averaged 29 points per game, earning him four votes
for MVP and a top-ten finish in the voting, and 10.2 win shares, both of which
would be career highs for him, certifying that while the injury may have hurt
his health in the long run, it certainly didn’t hurt it in the short run.

(Information gathered from: Associated Press, The Great Book
of Seattle Sports Lists, UPI, and The
Rise, the Fall, The Recovery, by Spencer Haywood and Scott Ostler).

Friday, March 1

I found this too late for the post earlier today, but it's worth its own post regardless. For $1, you can have this amazing t-shirt featuring Shawn Kemp, Gary Payton, Nate Mcmillan, Dana Barros, George Karl, Ricky Pierce, Eddie Johnson, and Derrick McKey - in animated form! View the complete listing here.

Oh, my. Just … I’m not sure what to say about this one. Set
aside the value – it’s $50 for a warm-up jersey, so you can’t quibble too much
about the price – but, that picture? Why that expression? Why do I get the
feeling that the poser is a TrailBlazer fan that lost a bet? Why does he feel
the need to show us all of his chins?
And why is he looking at his feet in the reverse picture? What’s down there,
Joe? Did you step in something? Or are you just wondering how you got to this
point in your life?

To the seller(s) of this piece of annoyance, on behalf of
every citizen of Sacramento and Seattle, and anyone who has ever been a fan of
either team: Go to Hell, just go. In all honesty, can anyone fathom who the target market is for this obscenity? No one in Seattle or Sacramento would ever wear this in public, so I'm struggling to figure out who they expect to buy it.

So, you’ve got a corduroy hat signed by Michael Cage, Rich
King, and a mystery Sonic. The question you’ve got to ask yourself: Would it be
worth more if Rich King hadn’t signed
it? And who is the mystery Sonic? Could it be Bart Kofoed? Would that make it worth even less than $10?

I sometimes wonder about the process that goes into making
these staged photos. For example, in an ordinary circumstance with another set
of three great NBA players, where none of the three is truly superior to the
other two, you’d think there might be some awkwardness as to who gets to stand
in the middle, right? I’m guessing this did not happen with Xavier McDaniel,
Tom Chambes, and Dale Ellis:

Yes, it's from that game. The ticket doesn't say Game Five, but it does say Game C, which makes it painfully obvious that this is an unused ticket from the most horrific game in Sonic history. I think it's worth $5 just to buy it and perform an exorcism. Maybe you could get Dikembe Mutombo to perform part of the ceremony.